Bone Chime Leaves 

Leaves rattle skeletal,
bone-chime percussion
rolls over tired ground,
life lost and found
join patient decay on the way back down
      to the earth.
Tucked into shroud over tomb –
her womb remembers your birth.
No husk is unloved, forgotten, unfelt
in this holy dance
where we’ve all knelt.
Sweet musk and mold
carry old stories told
through super nova echoes
where time is no measure.
      No better, no worse.
We buy what we’re sold
      with hours and days
to seek pleasure, mask pain,
distract and detract and spout warnings of shame.
But flesh ain’t your cage
and the rage passed down
will wither and drown,
collateral owed from our bargains with time.
Spill lyric, spill love,
longing wake will climb
      the void to fill and root.
Hold fast to the heart
and that dust-skin lets go,
dismissed by those winds
that blow long and throw
       present to past.
No last. No close.
Just roll like the bone-chime leaves flow.

Written by Sarah Goldman